


Romancing Mr. Anderson

by BinaryJayne



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Cheesy, Cliche, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hannor, Happy Ending, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Secret Admirer, Songfic, Tropes, hankcon - Freeform, no beta we die like men, romcom, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 04:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15856095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BinaryJayne/pseuds/BinaryJayne
Summary: Set after DBH good ending.Connor has been living with Hank for several months now and would like to make his feeling known to the very obtuse detective. In order to make the transition easier from friends to lovers, Connor takes inspiration from romantic comedies of the early 21st century. It goes about as well as you'd expect.





	Romancing Mr. Anderson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poetofthefall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetofthefall/gifts).



“Oh, what the fuck is this shit?” Hank exasperates. His shoulders slouch in embarrassment at the scene before him. The bullpen became hushed as the officers watched the scene play out. The lieutenant’s face soon became a splotchy red as he realized the dozens of pairs of eyes in the large room were acutely spying on him. 

On his desk was a vase with a dozen perfectly arranged red roses. They were adorned with baby’s breath, and the clear crystal vase had a red ribbon tied around it in a neat bow. Leaning against it was a small card, no larger than a few inches wide with a message written in dainty calligraphy.

Connor shifted behind Hank. “It appears to be twelve roses.  _ Rosa rubiginosa  _ to be exact. This is a common gift one gives a paramour, or a prospective one, Detective.” The android stated as-a-matter-of-factly. He watched Hank’s reaction go from stunned to angry.

“I fucking know that, Connor. I mean why is it here? Who is playing this fucking prank?” He snatched the card and read it.

_ Hank, _

_ I like you very much, just as you are _

_ Your Secret Admirer _

 

“Oh what the  _ fuck _ ” He flipped the card around, trying to look for any other clue as to the mysterious sender was. “Connor!” His harsh voice cut through the thick quiet.

Connor snapped to attention. His eyes darted from the card in the Lieutenant's hand to his face. Hank’s expression was sour. That look made his chest tighten.

“Y-yes?”

He extended the card to Connor. “Do your analysis thing. Jesus, just figure out who did this, yeah?” 

Connor grasped the folded paper and brushed his fingers with Hank’s. They were clammy, and Connor saw his breathing get a little heavier. He was angry. This was not the desired outcome. Still, Connor analyzed the card as he was told, despite knowing what he would find. 

“There are no fingerprints on the card, Hank.” Connor’s brow furrowed slightly. Hank’s face was getting redder. This was not good.

“Shit. Just, do that thing. With your tongue. Find DNA or whatever.” His fingers twirled in a rolling motion, a nervous tick. He was losing composure.

Doing what he was told once again, Connor brought the card to his lips. His tongue slowly began peeking out, its goal just millimeters away, when Hank snatched the card out of his hand with a rough motion, seemingly changing his mind. Hank mumbled something dismissive and sat down at his desk, defeated by the day already. Connor took his seat at his workstation. He had his own worries. His LED flickered yellow and he turned his head to the right to obscure his thoughts from Hank.

Why hadn’t that worked? Was it not customary to start a new romantic relationship with a gesture of flowers? Admittedly, Connor had trouble understanding how to court humans. He simply could not find the correlation between feelings of affection and rootless plants that are sure to die in a week. However, he was committed to his plan. This was nothing but a mere setback. He would have to adapt to the situation. Connor was nothing if not an excellent negotiator.

“Those roses smell nice.” Connor offered. He made sure to modulate his voice into a pleasing tone that has lowered the stress levels of his partner before. After a beat, he turned his head a few degrees to the left to gauge Hank’s reaction.

Hank raised an eyebrow. “Do you have opinions on smells?”

Connor shrugged. “Not as such. But that particular strain of roses is well known for its fragrance. My sensors detect a potent emission originating from the bouquet. Judging by their proximity to you, it is not an unpleasant emission. Do you think they smell nice, Lieutenant?” He let his eyelashes flutter a little more than usual, his brown eyes kept a careful watch on Hank’s reaction.

A few seconds passed between them in silence. Confusion and anger flash over the human’s face. Without a word, Hank stood up. He grabbed the vase roughly by the lip, and made his way over to the breakroom, his loud footfalls echoing across the bullpen. He slapped the arrangement on the table of two officers enjoying their break, and trudged back to his desk before taking his seat once again. He focused on the screen in front of him and began typing away at his report. The chair was turned at an awkward angle. Even with the slight discomfort of overreaching for his terminal, it was worth it for Hank to no longer see the nefarious bouquet. 

That was the end of that.

_ Hank doesn’t like flowers. _

 

The week went by with no more disruptions. Hank seemed more on edge than usual, and Connor wasn't about to elevate his stress any further. Still, he felt his thirium pump beat faster when he saw the card still sitting open in a drawer in Hank's desk. 

_ Hank likes kind words.  _

That gave Connor an idea for his new approach. 

 

The morning had started off with his uneventful routine. Connor, who was living on the older man’s couch while he searched for an apartment for himself, had left an hour ago to pick up coffee and bagels, and Hank clad himself in pj bottoms and a robe to let Sumo out. He was brushing his teeth with one hand while twisting the doorknob with the other. Sumo shot out the front door like a rocket, nearly knocking the detective off of his feet. 

“Damnit, Sumo!” he grumbled, toothpaste dripping from the side of his mouth. He wiped it with the back of his hand. “you're gonna be the death of me do-” his voice trailed off into a choked whisper. Standing dumbfounded on his front porch, Hank couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The shock of it made the toothbrush slip from his fingers and onto the hard wood with a clack.

Pinwheels. There were pinwheels all over his front yard. The gentle breeze blew through them, and each one spun lazily. The tips were colored a bright blue and almost looked like an android’s LED as each of them turned. They were placed with meticulous care on his front lawn, each pinwheel pushed into the ground at the exact height as the one right next to it. Their placement was...

“Fucking hell - ?” The corner of Hank’s lip curled upwards into an uncomfortable sneer. He felt his face flush, a sudden heat rising up and painting his face an embarrassed scarlet. The pinwheels spelled out a phrase. A phrase that could be seen in clear view of his front door. A phrase meant to capture Hank’s attention the moment he stepped outside to start his day. His pupils widened in an involuntary response as he read the message.

 

_ You Complete Me _

 

Hank brought his hand up to wipe away the surprise from his face. With an uncharacteristic burst speed, he found himself stumbling off of his porch to tear the pinwheels from the dewy grass. The morning chill and the dew soaking through his pants as he sat on his knees gave a sense of urgency to this whole ridiculous situation. Hank began pulling the pinwheels. He snatched handfuls of the little paper toys, and soon the  _ Me _ had disappeared entirely and morphed into a messy pile by Hank’s knees.

The neighbors, the  _ fucking neighbors  _ could see! The street already thought he was a menace, this was just icing on the fucking insane cake that was his week. They had to be removed before the neighbors were roused from their homes by their work schedules. They had to be removed before Connor-

“Lieutenant?” The familiar voice asked quizzically somewhere off to his right. Hank paused his ministrations with a huff and turned to look at the android. Connor was standing on the sidewalk, holding a cup of coffee in one hand, and a white paper bag in the other. He stared down at the detective with a passive gaze. The LED on his temple pulsed a bright blue as he watched the lieutenant’s ministrations.  

“Someone’s playing a  _ fucking _ prank, and I’ve just about had it with this bullshit.” Hank sighed. He dropped another handful of pinwheels to growing pile, mumbling something while doing so.

Connor tilted his head and looked at the scene. The message simply said  _ You Comp,  _ but the pinwheels stacked on either side of Hank told a greater story.

“Judging by the placement of the holes left in the ground, would I be correct in theorizing that the message was  _ You Complete Me,  _ Hank?” He emphasised the detective’s name. The android’s LED spun a bright yellow, as if he had analyzed the yard like he would do at a crime scene.

“For the love of - get in the house! Don’t let the neighbors hear you say shit like that.” He pointed roughly to the front door. The older man groaned and stood up from his prone position and wiped the loose grass off of the front of his pajamas. With a slight shove to Connor’s shoulder, he ushered them both into the house. Sumo bounded in a split second before he closed the door.

Connor walked over to the table to place Hank’s breakfast on its surface. His LED was still spinning rapidly, lost in thought. The android was stiffer than usual.

Hank noticed.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice harsher than he meant. Running his fingers through his hair, the detective waited for his android to respond. He resigned himself to crossing his arms and standing in the middle of the living room. “Well? Out with it!”

Connor tore his gaze from the bagels and faced Hank. With a very calculated shrug, his said, “I think someone might have romantic feelings toward you, Hank.” 

Hank balked.

His eyes flickered down to the older man’s chest. The robe was slightly open and Connor saw thick curls of graying hair adorned his front. He wondered idly if it would feel the same as Sumo’s fur if he were to stroke Hank. His fingers twitched.

“Bullshit. I’m an old, broken down man. People don’t-” he sneered at his next word, “ _ crush  _ on men past their prime.”

“On the contrary, Hank, many people find you attractive. You are a tall, broad man with very symmetrical features.” Connor waited a moment before continuing. “In fact, analyzing various men and women you come into casual contact with have shown a large percentage of them have elevated heartbeats, dilated pupils, and have an increase in pheromone output. Hank, it is my conclusion that there are many suspects who might be crushing you.”

Hank slid a palm over his beard and wiped away an imaginary mess. Another nervous tick. “It’s crushing  _ on _ .” He huffed. “The phrase is ‘crushing on.’” Even in stressful situations, Hank never failed to correct the android who was built to be perfect.

“My apologies, lieutenant. I have adjusted my venacular to include the phrase ‘crushing on.’” Connor cocked his head to the side and analyzed his unusually quiet human.

He was stressed, but the man’s heartbeat was well within normal levels. Sweat was beginning to accumulate on his brow and under his arms, a likely symptom of his mindset. He was not as stressed with this attempt as he had been with the roses. This was progress. Very good progress. Connor was getting closer to accomplishing his goal.

“Hank,” the android began. He took a moment to choose his words carefully. “Would a potential partner be… unwelcome?”

No response. Connor probed further.

“Because studies show men in committed relationships have a longer life expectancy, as well as lowered risk of stress-induced illnesses. Having a partner to support you and stand by your side also shows an increase in prolonged happiness. It would be,” he tried to find the right words.” not unlike our partnership, just with a sexual component. Do you want more than our partnership, Hank?”

Hank’s mouth dropped open and he stood frozen to the middle of his living room. The robe was slightly more ajar now and his full chest was exposed. Connor’s hand twitched again.

“You don’t know what you said. You don’t know what yer implyin.” Hank swung his arms out in front of him in a dismissive gesture. “I forget sometimes that you’ve only been alive for a few months. Probably didn’t mean to phrase it like that.” He began to walk over to the bathroom, muttering the whole way before stepping over the threshold and closing the door softly behind him.

Connor relaxed his posture. This was not what he wanted either, but still not entirely a poor outcome. Hank did not have an angry outburst, and he reacted well to someone possibly  _ crushing on _ him. Perhaps all of the research he did to romance Hank was beginning to pay off. 

The door to the bathroom opened. Hank yelled from the room, “Hey, I’m gonna get in the shower. Think you could grab all those damned pinwheels on my lawn?”

“Yes, Hank, I would be happy to.” 

“Thanks, kid.”

Hank didn’t hate this.

_ Hank likes grand gestures. _

 

A few days later, The pair were walking through the busy commons of downtown Detroit. It was a cool, spring day, perfect for apartment hunting. Connor had mapped out the route and was dragging along a grumpy detective, who was clutching a coffee and was slightly hungover. Normally, a day off for Hank meant boxer shorts and quality time watching basketball on his TV, but Connor had been unusually persistent in convincing the older man to accompany him.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Connor! Hell, you don’t even have to get yer own place. Just stay at mine. Sumo loves you more than me anyway. Just, slow down, Jesus.”

But Connor couldn’t. The anticipation was accumulating and it made it hard for the android to sit still. He was… anxious? Nervous? Giddy? Regardless, everything had to be in place. He had temporarily felt guilt when he had to lie to Hank to get him here. However, he couldn’t argue with the result. It had been a convincing lie, and now all Connor had to do was to get the detective in the right place for the show to begin.

“While the standing invitation is very welcoming, Lieutenant, I feel it necessary to acquire my own space. I thank you for your cooperation.” Connor stalls and turns to face Hank. This was the spot. “However, your opinion is what matters most to me. That is why we’re here, so I can show you what it means to me.” 

Hank bristled and took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Where’s the building? Let’s get this over with.”

Connor frowned slightly. It seems as if Hank wasn’t getting the hint, as it were. His overt flirtation wasn’t as obvious as he had assumed. The parameters for innuendo-laden conversation would have to be adjusted for further conversation.

He reached out slowly and took the older man’s hand in his. Hank choked on his coffee and sputtered, but didn’t take his hand away.

“Lieutenant,  _ Hank,  _ you are the reason I’m here. You’ve supported me, encouraged me, and accepted me when I became deviant and didn’t know how to process. Without you, I would be lost, I wouldn’t be alive.  When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.  Hank, I have to tell you, I have to  _ show  _ you how I feel.” He lifted Hank’s hand with both of his, and placed it on his own chest. The skin of the detective’s hand was rough with age, and felt warm and wonderful against his own smooth fingers. 

“Con-” before Hank could talk to him, a woman came out from the crowd with a folding chair. She placed it behind the detective and with Connor’s gentle hand pushing down on Hank’s shoulder, his body relented and he took a seat. 

Connor leaned forward and grazed his fingertips lovingly onto Hank’s cheek. “Let me show you, Hank” he repeated.

The crowd slowed to a stop. They all turned to face the pair, their bodies frozen in various poses, waiting for their cue. Connor stepped back a few feet into the crowd and dug into his coat pocket. He pulled out a pinwheel, and as if on cue, the previously frozen people surrounding them did the same. All of the pinwheels spun with the familiar blue tips that he had seen on his front lawn. They twinkled in the sun like the LEDs they were trying to simulate.

Hank’s eyes grew wide in realization. The breath died in his lungs, and as much as he wanted to call out to Connor, his body seemed unwilling to sync with his brain. His fists gripped the edge of the chair and prepared himself for the scene before him.

With a grin so large that it looked out of place on the androids face, he raised his empty hand over his head and snapped his fingers. From all sides, a song began blaring from hidden speakers.

_ Oh don’t you dare look back _

_ Just keep your eyes on me _

_ I said you’re holding back _

_ She said shut up and dance with me _

 

Six people jumped out of the crowd and began dancing to the upbeat tune. Kicking their legs high in the air and twirling around each other, each person moved in sync to the beat of the song and kept their pinwheels fluttering in their hands. One woman took Connor’s hand and he lifted her in a perfect arch, her legs kicked out in a jump split, and she landed and spun to face her new partner. More dancers began joining in, dancing in time with one another and all of the focus was turned towards Connor and Hank.

 

_ We were victims of the night _

_ The chemical, physical, kryptonite _

_ Helpless to the bass and the fading light _

_ Oh we were bound to get together _

_ Bound to get together _

 

Connor stepped in sync with the dancers. Each step was more energetic than the last. Their arms lifted up as they pivoted on their heels. One man did a series of back handspring a few feet from Hank’s chair. The dance had now grown a crowd and onlookers were frantically pulling out their phones to record this flash mob. Uncaring of the crowd, Connor spun on his toes and extended his long arms in time with the music. Every second he danced, he watched Hank with his big, expressive, brown eyes. He yanked his tie off and tossed it towards Hank, then grabbed the arm of the woman next to him and dipped her as everyone else held the same pose.

 

_ She took my arm _

_ I don't know how it happened _

_ We took the floor and she said _

 

His thirium pump was going crazy. When he researched this, he wasn’t sure Hank would be amiable to this. After all, the detective’s usual demeanor suggested he wouldn’t like such public displays of affection. But he reacted well to the note on his lawn, Connor was sure. He knew it because he sampled the sweat off of the robe he was wearing. It had contained androstadienone, a hormone usually released when someone was feeling attraction. He just had to go bigger. Hank would notice him if he just went bigger. And now, Hank was here, watching him, noticing him. This was it.  _ This was it! _

 

_ She said oh oh oh _

_ Shut up and dance with me _

 

The song was nearly over. Connor brought his arms to his chest, hands still holding the pinwheel, and stepped out of the dance to twirl gracefully over to Hank.

 

_ Oh oh oh shut up dance with me _

_ Oh oh oh shut up dance with me _

 

On the last line, Connor took a running start and slid on the ground and stopped mere inches from the older man’s knees. As the last notes rang out, his final pose had the android on his knees in front of Hank, his left arm behind himself, fingers splayed, and his right arm held up an offering in the form of a pinwheel. The rest of the dancers finished in a similar pose, albeit still on their feet, and much farther away from Hank. His cooling system had gone into overdrive, and Connor found himself panting as he put himself on display. A moment passed, and Connor’s bright smile faltered slightly. His LED went from a pulsing blue to a worried yellow.

“Hank?” He asked gingerly, letting the pinwheel fall slightly. “Say something.  _ Please.”  _

The lieutenant brushed a hand over his mouth, the other hand gripped his thigh tightly. Connor dropped his pinwheel along with his smile, and looked up at Hank with sad eyes. He didn’t have to analyze Hank to know he was angry. The deep scarlet of his cheeks and the rough panting was all the evidence the android needed. He hated this. He hated  _ Connor. _

“I-” Hank said slowly through gritted teeth. “Have never been more embarrassed in my entire life, Connor. That was- that was-” He cut himself off and shook his head. Hank stood up and turned his back towards the android.

Connor rested still on the back of his calves, looking up at Hank, utterly defeated. His hands curled into fists on his lap. 

“Go. Just go. I don’t want to see you back at my place. I need to think. Jesus  _ fuck.  _ Just…” Hank shook his head and slowly walked away, leaving Connor to watch until the detective turned a corner and disappeared.  _ yellowyellowred _ .

The crowd shifted. Some of them tried to console Connor, some onlookers laughed at their phones as they replayed the scene, but most people just left the heartbroken android to stare at the spot where he last saw Hank. There was nothing to be done, he was rejected by the man that meant the most to him. He put himself out there, on display in front of everyone, and Hank turned him down.

But why? He did everything right! According to his research, that should have been the one. Should he have chased the detective down in an airport? No, he wasn’t going on a flight anytime soon and Connor couldn’t wait. Should he have proposed? No, it was too soon. That was too grand of a gesture. Should he have hired a band? Were the speakers not enough? No matter how many scenarios Connor preconstructed, it wasn’t enough. His mission had failed.

Connor sat there, unmoving for a long time. The bright sun had set without him knowing. All the poor android could focus on was the corner that Hank had turned into. The crowd seemed to disappear as the sky turned dark, but it went unnoticed by him. It wasn’t until the telltale wetness hitting his cheeks and shoulders told him that he had been sitting there for hours, and it had begun to rain. Though he’d rather stay and review the evidence to determine where he went wrong, he knew he had to get out of the rain. He stood slowly, the joints of his knees and hips creaked uncharacteristically, and he began to walk in the direction of home. His feet stopped abruptly.

_ I don’t want to see you back at my place. _

He had nowhere to go. Hank didn’t want him home, didn’t want him, so what was he going to do? The android stood for a few moments as he surveyed his choices, the rain picking up as he continued to ignore shelter. He wanted to focus, to find a solution, but something kept pulling him away from self-preservation.

Why?

Why did Hank turn him down? He was obviously attracted to Connor, or at least his secret admirer, so why did he refuse to reciprocate? Unless maybe it wasn’t the person, but the situation. That would make sense. Maybe Connor had completely misjudged Hank’s reactions to the last attempts. Hank liked the words, liked the feeling of catching someone’s eye. But thinking back to how he had found Hank yanking the pinwheels from the lawn and grumbling about the neighbors made him think that displays like this cause him discomfort.

“Shit. I should have known public displays were not ideal.” Connor realized.

It made so much sense. Hank was such a private person. He had let his feelings and his research cloud his judgement. All Connor had wanted was for Hank to feel the same joy and sense of belonging that he received every day in the detective’s presence. Connor, however, does not get embarrassed, and that bias took over all of his preconstructions. 

The LED spun and pulsed as he quickly updated the parameters of his mission. New options appeared in his view as he processed the new flood of information.

His eyes grew wide as he took off like a rocket down the sidewalk. He still had a chance to fix this.

 

The rain had turned into a downpour by the time Connor had made it to Hank’s home. His jacket was soaked through and his damp shirt clung to his chest as he made his way passed the gate and into the detective’s side yard. It had to be private, this wouldn’t work in his front yard, in front of his neighbors. He wasn’t willing to take the chance that someone might be awake to spy on his last ditch attempt to woo an angry and private man. Through the window the android could see Hank sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of whiskey in one hand and Connor’s red tie wrapped around the other. The older man’s face was resolute and tired, as if he was living with a difficult decision. Connor watched as he took a sip of whiskey and pursed his lips and his thumb rubbed against the silky fabric. Connor’s breath left him. Hank was beautiful.

Connor pulled the mini speaker from the bag he was holding. He had just enough processing power to purchase it at an electronics store on the way home, and hope it had enough battery to play one song. He only had one chance at this, and nothing could go wrong.  _ Yellowblueyellow.  _ He held up the little speaker to the window and began to play the song.

 

_ You might been hurt, babe _

_ That ain't no lie _

_ You've seen them all come and go, oh _

 

“Hank!” Connor called to the window. The water droplets fell from the android’s nose as he waited for the man to notice him. When he didn’t, Connor increased the volume. Not enough to wake his neighbors, but enough to get his attention.

 

_ Every little thing I do _

_ Never seems enough for you _

_ You don't want to lose it again _

_ But I'm not like them _

_ Baby, when you finally _

_ Get to love somebody _

_ Guess what _

_ It's gonna be me _

 

This time, Hank heard it. His eyes got wide and he pursed his lips in panic. Dropping the glass, Hank frantically rushed to the window and opened it. Without a moment’s pause, Connor turned off the song and set the waterlogged speaker on the ground. It had done its job.

“What are you doing?” He hissed, speaking up over the sound of the rain beating against the house. “What was that?”

“That was It’s Gonna Be Me. It was the most popular love song of 2000.” Connor looked into the window and kept his hands at his sides.

“I know that, you plastic- Jesus,  _ why  _ are you playing an N’Sync song at my window?” Connor opened his mouth to speak before Hank yelled again. “Don’t move. Don’t fucking move.” And he disappeared from view.

Connor waited. The rain didn’t bother him, but this feeling in his gut did. It felt like his insides were getting compacted. A quick scan told him they were all in the place they should be, so what was it? He looked at the empty window again. Dread. It was dread.

The wooden door creaked beside him. Hank was standing there, holding an umbrella, looking at him as if he we unsure how to proceed.

“Hank, I’m sorry. I-”

“Why did you do all this?” Hank stepped closer to him, but not quite bringing the android underneath the comfort of the umbrella. His voice was softer than Connor expected. “Why go through all this trouble? The roses, my lawn, that fucking dancing, you gotta know I’d hate all that.”

Connor shook his head. Rivulets of water sprayed everywhere. He brought his hand up to run his fingers back through his soaked hair. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Hank. These feelings, they don’t have words. I don’t know how to express them. I… I downloaded romantic comedies from your youth in hopes that I could find the answer in there. I thought it was working, that-” He cut himself off and shrugged. 

He stared at Hank’s expression with wide, pleading eyes. The thirium pump was beating faster, his breath came quick. 

Hank softened and smiled. “Connor, that’s-” He put his hand on his face and his shoulders began to shake.

Connor’s artificial stomach metaphorically hit the floor. He had failed again. Hank didn’t love him. Not only did he lose his romantic partner, he lost his friend, the only man who stood by him and treated him with respect and patience. He braced himself for the onslaught of vile hatred that was sure to come. He would rather be decommissioned than hear Hank tell him to leave one more time. If he could cry right them, he might have.

A sound escaped the detective’s lips. It was a choked sound.

Another one.

Soon, Hank couldn’t contain it anymore and his hand fell away and clutched his knee and he doubled over laughing. The man took large breaths in between the huffed guffaw that he couldn’t seem to control. Connor watched this display and he could feel thirium rise in his face, increasing the temperature and tinting his cheeks a pale blue. Still, he said nothing as Hank regained composure and wiped his wet eyes with the back of his hand.

“Connor, oh my god, that is the  _ stupidest  _ fucking thing I ever heard. That shit is fake! Didn’t you read anything about how those fucking tropes set up bad expectations for people? Most of that shit is stalkerish and illegal! And you, you just…” He trailed off when he saw Connor’s face. Still soaked through, Connor was still staring at him with stoic eyes, the LED glowed a vibrant red. Suddenly, Hank’s smile disappeared and was replaced by a softer look.

“You dummy. I’ve been helping you figure all the deviency shit out, you could have talked.  _ We  _ could have talked.” He paused and wiped his beard, his bright blue eyes boring into Connor’s face. “ I’m not gonna lie, I’ve thought about you too. Fucking androids, always thinking their better than humans. We’ve got a little more experience with this, alright?!”

Connor shrugged again. “I don’t know what to do, Hank. I’m standing here, asking if you love me as much as I love you.” A beat. “You make me want to be a better man, Hank.”

Connor watched as Hank eyed him. The detective bit his bottom lip and took a few steps toward him, closing the gap between the two. Connor took a chance and reached for the man’s free hand again. This time, there was no sudden movement, no coffee to choke on. He watched Hank’s eyes as he placed the rough palm on his cheek and felt the warmth cutting through the chill of the rain. He smiled, and Hank’s expression quickly turned to the same. A quick scan showed Hank’s heartbeat increase with the touch. Hank wanted this, wanted  _ him. _

“Aw, hell, Connor. You had me at hello.” 

Connor raised himself onto his toes and leaned into Hank. He closed his eyes just as his lips brushed against the older man’s. The rush was unlike anything he ever felt. His entire body felt it was on fire, Hank’s mouth was the gasoline. Wrapping his hands around Hank’s neck, he realized he never wanted this moment to end. It was as it should be. It was perfect.

The floodlight shown above them and bathed them in a warm spotlight as the rain poured down. As they kissed, Hank discarded the umbrella in favor of wrapping his arms around his new love. 

Mission Successful. 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god, I had to drink so much whiskey in order to finish that flash mob scene. The second-hand embarrassment is real. Hope y'all like it! More DBH to come!
> 
> <3


End file.
